


Sin

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [84]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, M/M, PWP, coda epi 5x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a nice change of pace, not like Sam really has a type, but he likes Paul’s wry practicality and how he handles a shotgun more than anything. Wide hands on Paul’s waist, Sam spins him around and pushes him against the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin

Sam’s mouth is still a little sour from the tequila shots, tongue thick as he wobbles on his knees pushing forward, one hand gripping on to a firm thigh. The other’s buried three fingers deep.

Paul is practically hanging off the bar stool, legs spread lazy wide, one braced on the cross bar of the stool while the other dangles. He leans back, elbows propped on the bar, head tipped back and mouth open. His lips shine wet too, they’d started going shot for shot - Sam can’t remember how long ago.

Hey, he wanted to get rid of his stock. Wasn’t like anyone was coming to the bar anymore, and who knows when this prophet shit was going to ease up. If it ever was. So Sam was more than glad for the free drinks and eager to talk about happier things. Something other than lack of faith and the new horrors Paul’s seen at the end of his shotgun, in the eyes of people he used to know.

Sam’d rather hear about what this town was like before all this. He’d rather see Paul laugh about some of the stupid shit Sam used to get up to when he was younger. He’d rather listen to Paul groan as he gets a fourth finger worked inside while Sam swallows him down. Yeah. Right there. That’s the noise he wants to hear as the bar stool scrapes with a judder, one of Paul’s hands gripping in to his hair.

“Fuck, Sam, come on, you don’t have to be so gentle…”

Popping off his dick with a wet suck, Sam only twists his fingers in deeper and nips at the dusky skin on the inside of Paul’s thigh, jeans tangled around his ankles. “You haven’t seen how big I am yet.”

“I can guess.”

Slapping his thigh, Sam pulls his fingers out and stands with only a small stumble, swiping his hand on his jeans cause let’s face he’s gotten far worse on his clothes. Paul pushes himself up and kicks the stool aside, watching Sam unbuckle his belt, push his jeans down.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” Paul smirks, reaching forward to tug Sam’s shirts off. Clothes are strewn, half draped, around the bar. The front windows are shuttered, door locked, no one was interested in angering the angels anyway with things Leah told them not to do. But Paul doesn’t have faith and Sam doesn’t care. The bar’s dark but the glare of neon signs is sharp.

Paul’s hard muscled, tough, barely comes up past Sam’s shoulders. His hair is dark and short, hands calloused. It’s a nice change of pace, not like Sam really has a type, but he likes Paul’s wry practicality and how he handles a shotgun more than anything. Wide hands on Paul’s waist, Sam spins him around and pushes him against the bar.

“Here, get your foot up on the … the -“

“The foot rail?” Paul looks over his shoulder with an amused smile.

“Yeah, that thing.”

Hopping up on it with both feet, Paul folds his arms on the bar and pushes his ass back. Sam rolls on a condom on and lifts one of Paul’s legs higher, bent knee, trapping it between him and the bar. It’s still a little short. With some drunken fumbling, hands sliding over warm skin and Paul rubbing back against him, Sam eventually gets it right and pushes inside.

“Holy shit…”

Curling an arm around Paul’s chest, splaying his fingers wide and pulling Paul back, Sam gets in deep and folds Paul over the bar to mold against his body starting to slide with sweat, snapping his hips fast and rough.

Paul’s not small, but he’s small under Sam. Nipping at the curve of his shoulder, fingers dragging down through the short thick hair covering his chest and holding onto his hips, Sam fucks him down hard onto the bar. Paul had one hand gripped on the edge of the bar, holding on, trying to shove back but he didn’t have much leverage to gain and eventually he let his head slump down and went limp, body shuddering as he sputtered out a string of curses.

Near fucking him up off the foot bar, balls deep in the hot clench of his body Sam curled himself around Paul holding on with his teeth and his fingers, fast build-quick fuck orgasm rolling through him loose and easy.

Several hours later when people rolled through the streets yelling that there was a curfew in place, Sam downed one more shot with Paul before pulling his clothes straight and staggering towards the door.

Paul waved lazily at him, “Any time you wanna sin, Sam, you know where to find me.”


End file.
